Reentering the Past
by NeverStopThinking
Summary: When the Quake strikes the Glades, Ta-er Al-Sahfer needs to visit Starling City to check on her family but feels she must stay away to keep the Sara her family knew, not the harden assassin she is now, alive. Forced to return again when the League learns Merlyn is alive and in Starling City, she must confront her past and choose which Sara her family will know. Sara/Nyssa. AU
1. Aftershocks

"Good, Sara."

Nyssa smiled as Ta-er al-Sahfer deflected one of her own strikes to her right inner thigh. Wordless Sara followed charging forward and swinging at her head, forcing her to step back out of range. However the second baton raced to make connect with the Heir to the Demon's knee while the retreating baton stayed close to her core. _A new combo. Excellent. Good defense, too. Still, Habibati, it is not enough. _She sharply lowered her bow to block the strike, securing the weapon. Nyssa twisted and pulled her bow and its captive weapon with a rapid twist of her wrist toward her body, Sara released the weapon while simultaneously blocking the other assassin's elbow strike by using a middle block. The younger assassin stepped back, keeping her firm stance. A smile slipped on the Heir to the Demon's face as her attempted kick to her lover's ribs was countered.

Nyssa stepped back and throw the weapons on the knee high pile of beige mats sacked in the nearby corner of the sparring room. "Move." She commanded, that smile only growing.

Sara kept her firm stance but refused to advance; an open palm just below eye level and the only remaining baton ready to stop strikes aimed at her chest and upper legs. Her legs were vulnerable but it was too good. That baton would need to be replaced from her defenses. Curious, she moved to take the ploy.

However a hushed squeak from the entry way broke the amused tense hanging in the air. Sara closed all of her fingers into her open palm. _Break. Good. _Nyssa's eyes wondered to a lone messenger. His muscles tensed after a bow. She nodded for him to spoke. "Your father wishes to see both of you in his study." He informed them.

"We'll be there momentary. Thank you." The Heir to the Demon stated. The messenger left. Sara cast her a confused look. He normally only called one of them, and it was not her lover. The younger assassin comparatively never interacted with him; she still was somewhat intimidated by him. Not that was not there was not good reason for it but... She returned the look with a nod. She didn't know either. Only the continuous echo of departing messenger filled the room. An unstated anxious energy usurped the amused intensity. Tossing the discarded baton to her girlfriend and grabbing her bow, she marched to toward the door.

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Sara sped up to Nyssa's pace as "the Glades", "Starling City", "Malcolm Merlyn", and "full devastation" escaped the her father's study in a distorted jumble of words leaking through the door. She clutched the metal batons with a restless choking grip. Her breaths came in a rapid rhythm of rising inhaling and descending exhaling, as if trying to keep her composure from being conquered anxious and anger. She kept her eyes cast down but Nyssa recognized the fear dancing in her eyes. Her stomach sank at seeing it.

Ten paces from the study door, Nyssa turned and stopped to face her girlfriend. She slowed her own breathing and placed her hands on Sara's shoulders. "Habibati, a terrified bull, is it? Fear has place. It is not here - ruling you." She whispered resting her forehead on her's. Her neutral smooth tone growing tender. She rubbed Sara's shoulders. "Done?"

"Yes." escaped from barely parted lips.

"Now, make me believe you." Nyssa allowed more tenderness flood her muffled speak as she spoke. She took both of Sara's hands, leaving them at her sides. Her lover's muscle relaxed only a fraction of what she wanted but the fatal grip was replaced to an incessant and rhythmic rolling of the batons. Her breathing slowed for panicked rapid current of breaths to a hurried but contained rhythm. Nyssa sigh. "A nervous bull, it is." Forcing her feet to walk, she turned around and continued to walk. It was improvement.

Not sparing a backward look to reassess Sara, she opened the door.

"...glades were destroyed. However a last minute evaluation saved countless lives. Current casualties are unknown. Still estimates are in the thousands. This is..." shattered the tense air like battle mace to an impacted bone. Sara froze unable to even to collect shatters of the air. _That was why he called both them._

"Merlyn will be the last person I release from the league." Ras Al Ghul stated as he ran a hand through his silvering hair. "I have already sent agents to learn Merlyn's fate with orders to kill him if needed but preferable to brought him back alive, if the Arrow has not killed him."

If the Arrow or sent league members had not kill him, Merlyn would wish for hell's only hours into his death. He had earned the title the Demon for appropriate reasons. His name alone could cause grown men to abandon everything they once held dear. Still, he had a code. It would only take a day for that fool Merlyn to breath his last treasonous breath - a prolonged day when one hour felt like a day itself but only 24 days in total.

Sara sat down in a reading chair beside the door and glued her eyes on the screen. Based on the blind stare, she was deaf to world around her, aside from the CNN coverage of the damage to her hometown.

Sara would need to gather herself; she could do that on her own but she would need time. Her eyes wandered from her currently deaf-mute lover. Nyssa turned her attention to her father. "Few who broke their oath survive long."

He nodded; a drop of understanding appeared in his neutral but commanding tone. "Tend to her. There is little that can be done now aside from making one aware of the situation. Little truth comes out in the first day."

"Contact me when you need me, father." His heir stated.

"I will." He declared. "I will see you then."

Nyssa walked over and knelt down by the deaf-mute. "Habibati, Let's go."

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Sara's blind step echoed like an almost inaudible taps down the echo chamber of a hall. Normally, her step were silent. Her eyes surveyed the stone of the space but seemed not to adsorbed any of it. Nyssa laced her arm onto the Sara's shoulders and pulled her closer. "Monster." She mumbled, so low, it took the Heir to the Demon numerous repetitions to understand what she was saying.

"Yes, he is." Nyssa agreed upon decoding the phase. She opened their bedroom door. Normally she could translate the terrified mumbling in her rare nightmares without effort but it had taken too long this time. The phases of Sara's torment were constant or minor variations. However, for this phase she had more context than the dreams - far more context. Sara slipped out of her grip and walked forward.

"I need to check on my family." Her lover stated collectedly but hints of panic and fear entered her voice. "They could be injured... or worse dead." She did not yell or scream. Fear and panic didn't overwhelm her speech but the distress could not be ignored. It pained her to see Sara like this... so scared... like when she found her... barely able to walk and only a week from death.

"...Or alive and untouched. Tonight is not the night to leapt into things." Nyssa stated in the softest version of her customary indifferent tone she could, breaking from her thoughts. She wrapped her arm around Sara. "In the morning, I will speak to my father about the soonest possible mission near or in Starling. Just rest for now. We'll know more in the morning. I promise you." Sara would need this trip. Her father had personally assigned to his heir to remind some uppity Boston residents of the league's power. Not a difficult feat but a needed one. Still, that was two weeks away. Too long for Sara. Besides, she would need to better organize her points before speaking to her father about moving the trip up. He didn't need to think his heir was too blind by her emotions.

The Heir to the Demon noticed Sara's gasp on the separated Bo staff tighten into the same grip from outside the study. "Nes..." The impression of a smile carved itself on her lover's face. "...Thank you."

The corner of Nyssa's mouth curved upwards even revealing the beginnings of white teeth. She wrestled out the batons from the iron grip and placed them between the dvd player and compact platinum screen TV across from their bed. "I'll brew some tea." She traced her hand down Sara's shoulder to her forearm. Her lover gave her a concerned look. "It will not be that tea."

Relief glowed across the Starling City native's eyes. Her face still twisted in a wistful expression. Nyssa herself would be the first to admit the cinnamon tea she savored was... an unique tea. Still... It was not the cinnamon "overload" Sara claimed.

"A zombie would be better." Sara muttered under her breath.

"That could be arranged." The Heir to the Demon allowed a ghost of laugh to exit. A zombie was robust for her tastes but if Sara wanted it, she would make it. Her own plans for the day had imploded thanks to this senseless event. A rare day of only three hours league duties filled with reading, sparring, training, and lastly a evening walk of the Nanda Parbat. There were far worse possibilities though. She was not personally affected by or lose anything in it. They still could do the walk.

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Nyssa flipped to the next page of the ten pound _Ramayana _volume resting on the table. She had read it at ten times previously. Still, her mind protested any attempt to absorb what she was reading. Words blended together to an incomprehensible jumble on this page to. Surrendering, she closed the epic. She thought reading would be even to escape her concerns for her canary. Archery practice had failed. Five arrows wondering into the inner third ring in a set of 30 shall have been a clue but it had taken three sets to cease the pointless exercise to realize it. Not even imaging Merlyn's face had been enough. The Heir to the Demon should not be this distracted. It was unhealthy. A plan needed to be created to deal with the traitor. Her thought took over.

Sara had allowed the hunt for any new bit of information to replace any other form of activity for the day. Nyssa trusted her to work it out and would support in her solution, no matter how foolish or masterfully it would be. Her beloved was thousands of miles from her birthplace - not knowing if family had survived. Still her self-imposed isolation from them did not help the situation. Family is family. If they disowned her purely based on her new job, they were not family. However as Sara had argued countless times before her father trained in arts, her lawyer sister and Cop father would probability detest Sara's use of. The only remotely valid reason for disownment would be she was that she changed too much... Nyssa could not attest to Sara's pre-league or even pre-island character but Sara's amiable and thoughtful nature had survived the league training and life. If it could do that, it had to be a pivotal part of her character before...

Her father's footsteps broke her interior rant. "Good evening, father." She stared at the leather intricately engraved cover, blind to its painstaking details. She should have hears the squeak...

The Demon interrupted her thoughts. "How is your Golubushka?" He sat beside her in the one throne-like reading chairs.

"Processing the matter but overall well." Nyssa replied. An envelope caught her eye. She looked in her father's eyes. An unspoken question reigned in her own. Anything he held had a purpose.

"Here." The envelope slipped into her hands along a vague outline of a smile on his face. "Your mission in Boston has been bumped forward. There are two plane tickets." A foreign cordialness entered his voice. A faded outline of a smile crossed her face.


	2. Observations

As was usual, Sara left customs ahead of Nyssa. AGRUS proved annoying when traveling with the heir apparent of an international assassin organization. However the flirtatious, border line lustful, gaze of the man three table down and five table to the right will starting to be equally annoying. At least he could blinked once a minute. It was not the stalker intensity. No, just a man forgetting social etiquette. Six years ago, she would have thought of the look as innocent and toyed the idea of engaging with it but not now, and not the least because of Nyssa. He didn't deserve the freezing cautionary glance her girlfriend cast at unwanted advances to either of them. "How was customs?" She asked as the clipping Nyssa's high heels neared. She hadn't seen guards run to customs or security tighten even so that passport was probability still useable.

"No problems arise." Her girlfriend replied, placing a kiss on her cheek while grabbing her tea from the table.

"Good." The Starling City native smiled. No unnecessary injures to people simply doing their job. Sara catch the icy glare wondering to the direction of the man. She tapped her arm. The elder assassin's eyes returned to her. "Hey. Ready to go?"

"Yes." Nyssa answered in what most would call an amused tone but Sara knew it as a suppressed laugh. The look meant nothing; it was a habit useful in the league culture where authority needed to be asserted from out of melee range. It extended to establishing who was with who or had one's protection. Still this was not a league location and he was not a league member.

Only once they were out of the cafe, Sara spoke again. "I ordered my bus ticket ticket for tomorrow morning but before I leave, what would you like to do?" Her eyes scanned current of people flowing on the pavement. Nyssa had offered to gave her money for the trip to her hometown. However, Sara had refused to take it. This was her personal matter; it was separate from her. She should not pay for it. Beside, the junior assassin had money saved up.

Sara could see her lover's face twist in a frown before her emotional training kicked in and straighten the incoming frown into a flat line. "Darling, must we spoke of that so soon?"

"It is a part of this trip but only three days of it. At most. I'll be in Boston for the rest of it." Sara countered.

"What time does it leave?" Nyssa replied.

"8 in the morning."

"We should make the best of that window. I know of rather clear location for stars..." The Heir to the Demon stated. A genuine smile creeping on her face. "... however it doesn't matter to me..." _Stargazing, of course. One of Nyssa's favorite activities. _She continued thought. "...with in limits of courses."

"I'll pay for it as well." Sara informed her. Counterpoints against Nyssa's typical arguments for paying stand on stand by if she refused to gave up on this small purchase. Three years had allowed her to revise and master the point to near polished perfection.

"If you insist." Nyssa grumbled. The junior assassin waited for terms of the surrender. None followed.

"Pizza from Area Four, then a movie at an actual cinema."

"Azizity." Nyssa allowed a chuckle to escape. Her smile grew. "Your terms are agreeable."

"Good. You have no other choses." She stated.

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A wave of nostalgia hit Sara as her feet touched the Starling City pavement for the first time six years. The events of the last night evaporated from her mind. Was her favorite coffee shop still open? She could still imagine the neon sign illuminating the night with the words "Daily Fix". That place fueled so many late night cramming sessions. The assassin felt the smile slip on her face. No, she couldn't go back there. Memories later. Besides she could recognized. She need to get settled in for her _extremely_ limited time here. Sara pulled on her black baseball cap and dug in her pocket for her cell phone. "Landed. No problems. Love you." She texted before walking again. Mom first, then Laurel and Dad.

Fewer memories flooded Sara's minds as she located and settled into the hotel. _Two nights at most. _She mentally declared, staring at her unfamiliar room. God she would love to be in... but she couldn't. They didn't know she still was alive._ Alright, it was one in afternoon. Add on hour a half to be safe. She would out of class. Staking out the house would be easier... No, she still lived at the house. It would be too raw. _She felt a tear descend her cheek. Rising from bed, she sat up. University it is. The less time, here the better.

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A blonde tail hung through the back of Sara's black baseball cap. The tail bumped up and down hitting the base of her neck while she marched pass a lounge of highlighting or relaxing students. Fatigue weighted on their faces. If they thought that was taxing, they had not had six to ten hours of remorseless training with the daily new violet blotch then learning the finer points of speaking or reading arabic. Still analyzing every word of historical text or decoding trigonometry drained processing power, they deserved credit for that.

In six years her mom's office had moved to the fourth floor of Elliot Hall. Thank God. New office, less taunting nostalgia. Sara's eyes scanned every passing student but she focused on the bronze plaques marking the resident professors. Prof J. Willson Jay, Prof Bushrod Mashal, Prof Dinah Drake. She stopped, keeping her head down. She stretched her ankle to honor her stealth training and not stick out. A gap between door leaked out a conversation about a random students's classes - expect her mother was the faculty adviser. She never forget their voices but hearing it only twenty feet away from the source was new, almost relaxing.

"You'll need to take Eastern Roman Provinces and Jewish Rebellions." Her mother advised. She sounded happy. A wistful smile spread across Sara's face. The assassin's feet started to move at a normal rate but sped up as another professor lean in. "Oh. I'm sorry, Aaron. I lost trace of time." An sense of joy entered her voice. Sara stopped once again. Mom used to talk to dad like that. They were divorced so it was fine. She was moving on. A normal process of life. The smile shook as a tear slid down her eyes. However her mouth flatten in line as she felt eyes focusing on her back. Tilting her head down, she looked back. "Sorry, let's go." Her mother turned around and walked away with her boyfriend. The assassin's feet pulled forward toward the side exit. Great. She honored her stealth then.

The hall grow narrower with every step. Her silence footsteps sensed to echo to her. She needed to do this... however from a greater distance. She wasn't the Sara they knew. That Sara had died when the Amazon exploded. She could not be that innocent anymore. Blood of guilty men stained her hands. Her foot stepped down from the last step and connected with the ground floor. Being a student here and spending a fair bit of her teens here had advantages.

Once freed from the claustrophobic atmosphere, she walked backed to the hotel. Posters calling for Moira's execution plastered fences, concealing their rotten wood beams or rusted chain links. The depressions in the sideway hosting mini lakes allowed for children to jump across oceans or pockets of lava... or at least that is what she and Laurel use to do. Shutting her eyes, she forced back the memories. In Nanda Parbat, melting snow led to freedom for its chilling winter but left puddles and a mini mud season in the cavities of the stone walk ways. Still she was in her original home, so it was nothing comparable to simple joys of the city. Other similar thoughts flooded her head and fought with other thoughts for even a moment's domination during her "relaxing" walk to the hotel where no one first identified her as the Heir to the Demon's beloved, not as just another member of the league. It was delightful in a way, however it would be more satisfying if she was not being assaulted by thoughts and memories.

That thought had barely escaped when a buzzing in her pocket broken her reflection. What it three alright?

"Hey, Nyssa." Sara greeted, trying to energize her voice. Despite a honorable attempt, lead weights hung down her voice. Parts of her had momentarily toyed with letting the buzzing die unanswered but doing that would not help. She started to walk again.

"Is everything alright? You sound-" Her girlfriend inquired, hints of concern sneaking into the smooth usual unreadable monotone.

"Yes. Just tire." The younger assassin answered, adding mentally "being so close but unable to contact my family is not fun." Nyssa didn't need to heard it to figure out why. She could read moods and body language like a sixth language. It was useful more times than not. Making up for how annoying it could be.

"You're a awful liar." The Heir to the Demon replied, in her usual tone. Okay, in this indeicent it was annoying. Extremely annoying. This was her issue. Not Nyssa's.

"It is just a lot being back." Sara grumbled. "I need to do this though."

A pause followed. Nyssa was likely deciding whether to start their eternal debate or trying to rephrase her points. A sigh sounded from the other end of the phone. "Everything cosidered, are you comfort?"

"Yes. I should be back by tomorrow night." Yes. All the nostalgia considered, it was true. Still, the memories were overwhelming.

"Stay longer. You don't have this chance often." Nyssa suggested.

"Why?" Sara managed to keep from yelling but her displeasure at the suggestion could not be concealed, especially to an master's eye. The memories were too intense; she just could not do it.

"Only if you want." Her girlfriend conceded.

Sara took a prolonged breath. Silence continued to reigned on the end of the line. She would gave Nyssa this she respected her decisions, no matter how much she opposed them. "I'll call you later. I'm too tire for talking now."

"Call soon." was Nyssa's response before her end went dead.

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Sara decided "soon" meant 10 that night, opening league hours. Moonlight and flouride light combine cause a faded reflection off the metal studs in night colored hood and robe. Kneeling down she watched the Laurel's apartment became consumed by light. Their father followed less than three paces behind, a pizza box and stretching plastic bag in hand. She dropped her keys in a nearby basket and headed toward the kitchen. So she had learned to cook anything more than mac and cheese? Probability, not. Laurel turned to their father and he laughed. The assassin could see the smile on Laurel's face when she turned around. A smile slipped across Sara's face, invisible under her face mask but she was sure the pleasure was visible in her eyes. They were watching out for each other. Sara felt a tear slip down her cheek. A sense of contentment and sorrow sank into her soul. God how she longed to be with them. Feasting on greasy pizza. No. They supported and acted for convectional justice. Not the justice the league performed. She rise and left. She knew what she learned what she wanted to learn.

Part of her wanted to reveal herself to Oliver. He deserved to know she was alive. However that would led to more questions than he needed at this time. Still only he could understand the island. How it attacked the soul but left the body relatively untouched. He probability was the Hood as well. An green hooded archer vigilante appearing practically as soon as he returned for the island. It could be less obvious. It would put her in an awkward spot though if Ra's changed his approving stance on Ollie's nocturnal activities. It was better to 99 percent certain but not look in it.

Even Nyssa, diligent and determined, in her early attempts to reconstruction that hellish and numbing year could not fully understand that place. Drifting with the currents, at their aimless mercy, surviving only because she swan to the only boat with supplies fleeing guard had thrown in after Flynn... Her right leg sent of pain as she thought of these further numbing months. Sara guessed that is what happen when one walked on three stress fractures for months. One need not wonder why Nyssa could only get out five words at a time in that first month after she was at most a week from embracing dead as freedom from the pain... hungry... and fear. She wrestled these thoughts out of her head. Straighten up, she headed back to the hotel.


	3. Returning Home

Nyssa remained silent as Sara informed her, she would return to Boston by five tomorrow evening.

"If that is what you wish, Azizity." was all she said and all she could say. Sara was free to make her own decisions. If the trip had drained her that much, maybe she should not have taken it.

A moment's pause followed on the other end before a hesitant. Only a "See you then" broke the silence.

"You should tell me about your trip when you return." The Heir to the Demon stated, containing her disproval. Years of experience had taught her how to handle with an emotional drained Sara. She would not talk about over the phone. She would need to wait for her lover to figure out it for herself first, then they could talk about it.

"I will." The junior assassin replied, fatigue creeping in her voice.

"Be safe." Nyssa advised before she pushed the red button on her burner phone.

The Heir to the Demon released the combination of a sign and grumble as she stepped the apartment. Sara missed another chance to see if her birth family was truly part of her real family. If they would told and accepted it, the matter would be simple enough, just make sure they did not follow and kept the secret between them. Technically, she was dead. God. She was beating these points to death.

Back to the mission, the fools would soon be discovering their uppity imbecile of a boss with red fletching protruding from his chest now. The fool was new, arrogance enough to underestimate the League's power. If they did not contact the league in a day, the second-in-command would found dead in the same matter. The missing shipping logs would go unnoticed. Finding your boss dead would do that. It was his habit to keep these documents hidden anyway. Either way, most of their drug shipments scheduled for this week would go missing.

After this excuse for the trip was done, the real reason of reminding Abd Al-Malik, the New England manager of overall his position and make sure all the information about the break in was revealed. What would one want with that massive amount of sedatives? There are other places to steal from too. They have unique stock pile but that was not one of them. This Deathstroke (ARGUS's name) or Abd Al-Hatim had became a source of constant migraines. He had been a fortunate soul so far. Then again, he eliminating him would not be straightforward as she would have like. In his first encounters with them, he took down three elite assassins - alone.

_Nyssa. Rest._ She shut the door behind her before heading to bed. _You don't want to be as tire as Sara._

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Coffee greeted Nyssa's nose as she opened the apartment door the next evening. She stiffened for a spilt second. Who was there? A common burglar would not brewing coffee.

"Traffic was lighter than expected." Sara's voice echoed from the kitchen.

"You really should make sure that it is me before you announce your presence." Nyssa commented amused. Her eyes checking the mirror twenty feet in front of her. Sara's reflection in the polished metal didn't appear among the earth pilate of the living room and kitchen. A discarded leather jacket thrown discarded on the couch marked her presence though. Stream evaporated from the dipping caffeinated fluid into the coffee pot. She must just arrived.

"Not when I can see you with the mirror." Sara stated while stand up from behind the island. A metal spoon grasped in her hand. She tossed beside a waiting mug.

A muted smiled crawled on the elder assassin's face. "How was the trip?" She intrigued, putting her coat on the nearby coat stand.

"Good. They were alright." Sara replied, answering her lover's next question. "How is your mission going?"

"Proceeding." The Heir to the Demon answered. Word had reached her about the company's interest in a "new start" with the League. "Do you regretted it?" pounded behind her smile. Still, it could not make the final leap to uttered statement.

Sara walked out from behind the Island. "Knowing you, it should be done soon. You made it simply"

"Part of it is." The Heir to the Demon inquired, stepping out of the hallway. "What are your plans for tomorrow?"

"Sleep" was the immediate response.

Extreme fatigue burrowed and nested into Sara's eyes but it was emotionally weariness, not physical exhaustion. The question gained strength. "Too bad. I was planning spending a few hours as a tourist." The Heir to the Demon stated. Her lover would catch the ploy but it was as subtle as possible.

"You're never a tourist - partially in the states." Confusion mixed with the weariness.

A laugh attempted to escape but failed to slip through Nyssa's defenses. Enjoying the scenes while working doesn't allow the leisure of simply wandering and taking in every meticulous detail of a landmark or masterpiece. Catching glances of the landmark's details was her usual "tourist" activities with the buck of her focus on the target or mission. Her vacation suffered a limit of two weeks free from _any_ League responsibilities. Still, she have covered more miles than the average person dreamed of in a lifetime.

"Most of the time is not never." The Heir to The Demon teased.

"Okay, I'll bit. What do you have planned?" Sara responded.

"I was thinking of visiting the Museum of Fine Arts." Unfortunately brief hours could be spent drinking in the scene of historical and innovative masterpieces. Besides if she going to do her father's second mission, she going to at least enjoy herself during this fool's errand once.

"You said a few hours, not the whole day." Sara laughed to herself. Hints of the weariness disappeared in her eyes.

"That day we did more than visit the museum."

"We arrived at nine and left at four that evening." Another contained laugh escaped from Sara.

"There is only five exhibits I want to see." Her lover raised her eyebrows at her statement. The blonde informed her that her walk slowed with every step politely after that "day" in the Hermitage Museum.

"And after that?"

"It may took the whole time, Habibati." Nyssa have to be honest. She only have two hours, not including travel time. She budgeted time for that.

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Nyssa inhaled the crisp, uncontaminated Nanda Parbat air as her eyes flowed to jewels lighting the sheet of black consuming the sky. A welcome change from the polluted air of New York City with its own jewels concealed by a constant blaze of light. Here, however, they reigned in their unrestrained glory. She rested her arms on the french railing of the balcony. It could not be a more notable clash with the rest of the mason but her mom had loved it so it was installed.

The night darkened the faded amber, crimson, or rust colored tiles topping the dark mustard or beige stone residents engulfed a blanket of jagged monuments of rock and natural forces. In the morning one could see initiates strolling or sprinting to attend their 5:30 am lessons. At noon, a suitable crowd from the afternoon market proved entertaining from the hidden view point.

A squeak break her thoughts. The Heir to the Demon allowed to her reflections to stray from the heavens despite the facts she knew it was Sara. No one else in Nanda Parbat walked that loudly. A booming cannon compared to at most a muted tapping. The fat oak door squeaked again after her ward shut it with a determined shove, keeping her hood and head down. Sara turned around and jumped. She must have distracted by something.

"Hi, Nyssa" escaped from the ward. Shock evaporating from her whispered voice.

"Hello. What you are doing awake at this hour? It is two in the morning." The Heir to the Demon inquired. Did the nightmares improve?

Sara sighed and raised her head a little. That was a good sign. "Couldn't sleep. You?" She stated, stepping back and gripping the door handle.

This was the afternoon for her body. International travel's gift to all.

"Just enjoying the stars. You may join me if you want." Nyssa gestured for Sara to come closer as the assassin walked to the ornate table bordered by carved arabic inscriptions incasing interlocking geometric designs. A smile flashed on her face for a moment. She could remember every moment of the day her father and mom brought the table back from a trip to Cairo. A week was a long time for a four year old. The air boot and sneaker walked toward her. Nyssa's eyes wondered to the tea pot and single tea cup. Sara sat down. Normally, she would have stood. A mild wince from under the hood's shadow appeared. Her leg had to be bothering her. "How have you been?"

"Good" was all that came out initially, but "How was New York?" followed.

"New York is New York." The Heir to the Demon never like overvalued, sound and light polluted cities. A chuckle came from under the hood. Surprise entered the assassin's emotional neutral eyes, then the outline of smile grew. She was laughing. Nyssa walked in forward of her. Part of her entertained the idea of simply pulling down the hood to get a better look at her but that would startle her. "Does your leg hurt?"

"I have had worse." Her ward stated. The assassin was particularly aware of that. She raised and walked beside Sara, grabbing the back of her hood and pulling down the hood. "I walked a lot today. I'm feeling it." The Heir to the Demon moved to the other end of the table.

"Alright." Nyssa muttered. She would need to check on that tomorrow. "Would you like some tea?"

The other woman shrugged. Her voice remain hushed. "Sure." She kept her hood down. "Thank you."

Cinnamon scented the air as Nyssa filled a cup with her favorite drink. "It is strong." She warned, handing the streaming cup to Sara.

The Heir to the Demon took moment to further study her ward's features. Her azure eyes filled out the last of moats surrounding them in week and half she had been gone. The cheekbones resembled half buried driftwood on a pale sanded beach had been covered. Her mid back length strains of flaxen had darken from a faded lemon to smooth golden. Her muscle from what little she could see looked heathly. A considerable improvement from a month ago.

Sara sipped the drink and twisted her mouth. She forced it with an audible gulp. "That was a lot of cinnamon. Kinda overloaded." She immediately placed the cup on the table.

An amused smile crossed Nyssa's face. It is an attached taste. Still, there was not that much cinnamon in it. Sara leaned back and looked the stars. "This is better than Starling City?"

"The view is." Sara replied. A feeble attempt at a proper smile appeared on her face.

_It was natural. Of course._ "Do you miss them?"

"Who wouldn't." The attempt at a smile grow more self-assured and proper as her ward spoke.

Nyssa gathered her breath. "Once you're better, will you want to return home?" She enjoyed the recluse's presence; Sara provided a welcome break to the constant need for cation. It was better know to value this possibly limited time than waste it.

A prolonged pause followed. "I don't know. I'm not the one they knew." finally slipped out.

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"Still not as good as Nanda Parbat." Sara laid her head on Nyssa's arm. Her eyes humoring her lover by forging serious interest in the gleaming speckles of light swimming in the blanket of ink as the couple laid on the rooftop. They darted randomly from star to star, not studying the absurdly named outlines of the stars like her own trained ones.

Apparently the overly ambitious incoming leaders were not idiots. That would not change the soon-to-be missing drug shipments though. The league could be a remarkable ally, if one followed the basic rules of don't knowingly intervene in league operations. Anyway her evening had opened up, now that she wouldn't have to watch that house, Nyssa persuaded Sara to join her instead of collapsing in bed.

"Most views are." The Heir to the Demon beamed. Sara's eyes wondered to the brick wall. "Habibati, what is it?"

A rapid, sharpened "Nothing" answered.

"Nothing means something." The archer sharpen her voice as she retorted. Even an amateur, let alone her, could something weighted down her thoughts.

"I just really want to be there right now."

Starling City, her birth place or Nanda Parbat, her home? She would take the mid-morning sun of the mountain sanctuary over the most sheltered, secure league housing in Boston herself.

"Nanda Parbat." Sara continued. The Heir to the Demon smiled but didn't spoke. Was bringing her on even the correct decision. An report in Nanda Parbat have could be enough. Was she thinking that loudly? These thoughts protested and battled their way to the tip of her tongue but lose their feeble attempt. You're torturing yourself more than any enemy could, Nyssa.

"Sorry." The blonde sat up, pulling her knees toward her as she spoke. An completely unaware element dominated her voice. Sara's eyes scanned the features of the distance street light lit landscape from the factory roof top without taking them.

"Why? No offense was committed." Nyssa studied her lover as she spoke.

"You want to relax and I'll not helping." The younger assassin stated the same distance tone.

Sara had a point but it was not her fault. It was Merlyn's, and extending to the League. Nyssa could even blame her father, however remote. Possibly even she could included herself if she thought on it long enough. Lesson have been learned. Mistakes would not be repeated. However, casting blame at this point was an inefficient use of energy. Catching or confirming the traitor died was the only efficient use of resources now. "Reflecting on a situation like your's something not even my father could mask." Her lover looked at her, almost allowing a muted chuckle to exit but hide the beginning curve of her mouth behind her knees. "Even you could tell."

"Now, you're just making claims, you can not support." Sara chuckled, still hiding the lifting corners of her mouth; her glare wandered to the harbor.

"Habibati, I never make these." The Heir to the Demon placed her arm around Sara's waist and pulled her closer.

The wore etching of a smile became visible. Nyssa felt a restrained smile slip on her face as well. "Like when you claimed, it would only take fifteen minutes to find me."

"I underestimated you. I didn't repeat that mistake again." The Heir to the Demon replied.

The junior assassin laughed while casting a disbelieving look. "Right."

"I'll make you a deal: I'll give you two minutes. I have a hour. We stay in the factory." Nyssa negotiated. She know the layout of the factory fairly well but it would not be difficult for Sara to figure out as well.

"If you can't..." Her lover's grew more mischievous smile. A playful glint dancing in her eyes. The senior assassin felt her smile shape into a smirk. Sara continued. "We could do that anytime."

"Fly, canary." Nyssa teased, waving her hand in the direction of where they had entered from. "Your time starts now." Sara countered with a smirk of her own. "You'll learn, Ta-er Al-Safher."

"My time starts now." The Canary placed a kiss on her lover's cheek before blending into the darkness. It took a moment for Nyssa to check her watch to start the time.


	4. The Draft

Sara's stomach twisted as she released her held breath when the jet jerked to a stop, sledding onto the Starling City International Airport's runway. Having completed the last job in a series that would effectively shut down a drug smuggling network in Houston, she could not have been more eager to return home, when she had this hit added to her query. The job was not urgent or difficult in itself. Eliminate a lowly dishonorable detective - a Starling City Police Detective, none the less. Apparently being the only unassigned operative available meant she, a league member who avoided Starling City with an unrivaled passionate, was drafted into kill one of her father co-workers - albeit not a close or even friendly one.

Detective Vang had thrived while investigation by internal affairs enough, her father would rant about the "Untouchable" Vang after a stressed out day. He had not even been punished once where his father get demoted for helping the vigilante. Her stomach squirmed further; hints of outrage surfaced but extinguished themselves as quickly as they came. Officially, Oliver was breaking the law; cops could not help "criminals". Her mind wandered the task ahead. An easy job meant free time. Free time mean time to reflect on the chance of a reunion.

Part of her debated asking her girlfriend to use her contacts so she would not need to relive... her experience from seven months ago. Even thinking of her pervious trip back caused anxiousness to embed itself in her thinking. However, she would be working and not focusing on her family. Besides, she was a league member first and Nyssa's lover second. She detested when the squad commander sometimes restricted her involvement purely based on her connection to the Heir to the Demon. Despite her relationship with Nyssa, she was a capable member of the league and needed to be treated as such… that said having someone that "close" to the Demon killed or critically wounded under your command may not be healthily for one's career... or... if the action could be directionally tied to you. Not her own.

Still for her situation, it was not all offensive. For some reason (probability her girlfriend), Sara only performed hits on varying degree of corrupted individuals, no matter how little. She loathed this special treatment less and... enjoyed it. Was it alright to be hypocritical with that? It was not never brought up mentioned, never in passing. She had only three of the innocent targets in her roughly five years with league. The last one was winter, three years ago. Her stomach lurched at her brief flash of the faces. If the odds were random, she should have more done more. Her stomach twisted again. They were often league targets but only a twentieth of the overall assignments. Five percent who did not deserve their sentences. Perfection could not be achieved, still... Gathering her breath and courage, she rose from her cramped coach seats to join the passing line. Possible housing replaced the reflection. Three days, back in nostalgia hell. They was going to be fun, she laughed to herself.

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After taking Detective Vang's laptop (as per her orders) and leaving his apartment's floor a sea of drawers, clothes, and papers, Ta-er Al-Safher settled into the deserted clock tower. She could see the headline already, "Police Detective Found Dead in Believed Break-in". In waiting for the mark to complete that extended last call, his bragging about the two swat teams waiting for the Hood tomorrow evening conquered her mind. He revealed every detail of the trap that hour long monologue. Apparently a local drug lord wanted an upload of the Hood. The claims make could have utterly baseless. Still, the detail and feasibility of the plan discredited that notion.

God, Sara thought, she loved being stuck between her friend and the League. Ollie just get extremely lucky or there were such thing as fate. Other thoughts crept in. Why was Laurel so blinded? Why was she doing this? No. Sara could not ask. Oliver serviced the city... using controversial techniques to most but he appeared to have stopped killing, the most debatable element to uninitiated. Acceptance should have be earned easily. Now, how to help Ollie without him finding out.

Over a sleepless hours and countless miles worth of pacing, a crude plan polished itself in two separate marvels of improvisation. In one Sara would need to notify Oliver and reveal the trap... and the fact she survived the sea trying to kill her again. Explaining how she got word of it would be interesting as well but nearly as much. The other would be simple intervening, distracting, and hoping. Another dilemma debated itself in the mental melee and polarized the plans. The League. Nyssa always preferred to ask for forgiven after acting but Sara's positions in the league was not as protected... and respected. Beside if she did not inform Ra's of the trap and her plans, she may need to interaction with him after. He would understand and drop the matter, knowing him it figured out the Hood's identity, but... a chill rushed up her spine. Five years in the house could not cure of all the fear he inspired; her girlfriend insisted he was not as intimidating as he was. She knew him as a complex man and devoted yet intense father. She agreed with that description but... another chill surged up her spine. Nyssa could inform Ra's for her.

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Well, at least in terms of view, the set up for her plan could not have better. Ta-er Al-Safher laughed mentally. Ollie may not know of the league, and if he did, how much had the traitor sullied the league's reputation and their. Still, he would understand better than her own family and probability leave her alone and keep his distance. He could seek out the league, a border-line suicide mission even if the Demon favored you and suicidal one if not. Sara contained a laugh, the mental image of Nyssa, her girlfriend, and Oliver, her ex-fling, meeting. That could simultaneously the most entertaining and awkward event, she could ever have the pleasure of seeing.

Sara, back the mission. She silenced the torrent of thoughts. The glass sky light she knelt on, provided a view point to the suspenseful but silent movie below; still the automatic machine guns and red laser trained the green leather on Ollie's chest didn't require speech to understand. Sara lifted the circular glass cutter as the Arrow lowered his bow. Forgive me, Laurel. I can't let you do this. She stepped off the sky light as a hand sized silver dish descended toward the floor, the cry's edges dulling. Its screech piercing the air and rupturing ear drums before cracks in the splintering glass exploded in glazing shreds. The SWAT bowed and covered their ears. Their laser no longer fatally pointed at her friend and vigilante only threatening the carpet.

Shado's hood freeze for a moment and then flee out of view. Once her friend was out of range, she pushed down on the trigger in resting in her hands. A shock wave blow through the office as the device exploded in a brief blinding flash. No one would be hurt. The distraction only contained enough explosions to destroy the device. Sara sprinted the other end of the roof, leaping onto the fire exit of a nearby building; she climbed to rooftop and disappeared in the shadows.

By the time the assassin arrived the overlook above her sister's apartment, Sara was smiling. She sat down and settled her eyes on the portal into Laurel's home. She stayed there until 2 when Laurel returned and grabbed a bottle of wine. She launched her coat onto the floor and crumbled on the couch. Her keys flew into the basket, propelled by a furious launch. Just be able to return to work tomorrow, sis. The lawyer collapsed on the couch, her expression soften from rage to grief. At least, the assassin thought it had. Her distance didn't the decoding either. Sara's soul longed to comfort her but there would be too many questions. Weights forced her eyes down with closer may only worsen the situation.

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Sara's mom smiled. Glee and shock dancing on her upward curving mouth. "You're alive." She exclaimed, embracing her lost dead daughters in the sealed wrap of her arm. "I always known you were alive. Where have you been? What are you wearing? Why is he calling you Ta-er Al-Safher?"

What was going on? The assassin survey the shadow filled room, there was no man, then downward; her eyes freezing in terror. She was wearing the her league uniform - in front of her mother "Mom, it is complicated" was all that escaped in a baffled, petrified whisper as question swirled around in her head.

"Tell me, please." Dinah pleaded, tears welling in her eyes.

"Mom..." She answered, no other words escaping.

Her dad's voice broke the silence. "Dinah, get away from them." He shouted. Them? She was alone. Right?

"Why? This is..." Her mother panicked.

"She killed two men!" The cop announced.

Had she? Where was she? flown through her mind. She looked at her hands. Bathing her hands was a crimson, iron scented liquid. No. She didn't use a blade... but she was trained in every weapon. She could have gotten one and left it... she could have been saving a life.

The professor stared blankly at her ex-husband and then daughter. "Is this true?" She asked, too close to pleading for her daughter's taste.

"I don't know." The assassin felt her voice shake. Still, her mom's arms wrapped around her, tightening.

Lance's gun lowered. "Sara." He uttered; his face devastated, shock and fear carving themselves on his face.

"I know, dad. I wouldn't hurt you." His daughter begged. "Just put the gun down."

Officer Lance raised his gun. "I'm sorry, baby girl." He tinted his head toward his police radio. "Charlie Br-"

"Forgive me, mom." Sara stepped out of her mom's hug and disarmed her father but she could not incapacitate him. She just could not will her body to perform mastered moves. "I'm sorry, Dad." She throw the gun on the ground before an red fletch arrow pierced her father's knee. He collapsed to the ground, hugging his bleeding leg. Dinah watched, frozen. "Nyssa!" She yelled.

The Salmon archer leapt from the shadows and grabbed her arm. "Habibati, we need leave. It is not safe here." The Heir to the Demon stated. She pulled her lover into a new lit pathway as the scene darken.

Sara's eyes burst open; her breaths coming in gasps. Adrenal pulsed though her body. Thank god. That was just a dream. She shook, studying her dry, unscented hands. The golden sunrise cast through rays clouded glass of the clock tower. Despite the nightmare, she wanted to lay her head on her pillow to pay more of her sleep debt from her last two nights. Laurel had finally collapsed at 3 and half-a-hour later, she was enjoying her few hours of sleep before sunrise and the flight.

Two cups of coffee and forty-five minutes later, Sara's knees rested two feet in front of that stone monument dedicated to her friend's death. Tommy was a decent man; he didn't deserved Merlyn, the traitor, as a father. Shadows from her baseball cap concealed a tear sliding down her cheek. Wiping it away, she placed an unlit tea candle on the base of the stone memorial. By itself a muted arabic prayer flowed from her lips as the wick became consumed by flame. The assassin in her could not believe in a deity that permitted the unpunished evils that thrived in this world. Still the prayer to the imagined forces continued. Distance footsteps broke her meditation. Standing up, she placed a single tea rose on the granite stone.

The steps stopped thirty feet away. "Hello, Felicity." Ollie's voice dominated the air, blocking another car alarm or stray breeze. "I'll be at work in a moment." Sara bent her head down, pulling on her backpack. Her feet marched and settled toward the nearby aged, crumbling monument, just close enough to watch but far enough to flee and make it awkward for him to approach her causally. "Were you able to download the files?" More silence and no movement. Don't see me, Sara silently pleaded. "I'll contact Detective Lance. I'll see you then."

The assassin's eyes migrated unfocused from the tended grass and engraved stone in forward of her. Good thing, she left her carry-on at the clock tower. Half watching as Oliver focusing on the inanimate object, the candle exiting his stare, and half paying attention her watch. Two more hours until she would need to arrive at the airport. An sorrowful expression sank further on his face. Sara took a breath. She loved Nyssa but given the opinion part of her would have preferred to remain the boyfriend-stealing-college-student she had been or, at least, mature slower than she had. However, life spiced itself - with any input from her. Oliver suffered longer on that hell than she had but the league had refashioned her equally.

Sara rose. Her mind and her body acted as separate entity; her feet striding to the gate while she catch a prolonged, thoughtful look back. The entryway clanged behind her. Oliver didn't even look up from the inanimate stone.


	5. Confidential Matters

"I know this ruin may our planned game but Merlyn survived. Miss Queen informed me a few hours ago. Apparently, he presented several points of interest to the jury." The Demon stated, seconds after her daughter shut the study door. The echo had not finished bounding from wall to wall when he urged these noxious words. Silent filled still chamber. He remained seated, studying the flames illuminating fire place. The din of a lowering of glass of chinot on the side table continued the sound. A marble chess board reflected in its glass.

Nyssa's mouth twisted to keep her neutral expression. That would explain the verdict. No jury who had their city devastated would exonerate someone who was part of the plot for all but a few minutes leading up to the event. "Would there be any incentive for her to lie to us?" She knew the answer. She just need to say it.

The crackling of a wood fire broke the brief silence. "She is not a fool." He paused allowing the sound to once again dominate the rigid air. "I have sent Ala Qamar to restart the hunt. Inform her yourself. It is best that she hears it from you and not through rumors. Engrain this matter's confidentiality to her as well. I will not be humiliated if Mrs. Queen is a fool."

"Agreed. Still if she telling the truth, tracking him will be not enough. Ala Qamar will need to assemble a team." His heir advised. She could already name the members he probability been ordered to join him before she was informed.

"Haytam, Al-Owal, and Bandur have been reassigned." Ra's Al Ghul replied.

Nyssa nodded. "No one has escaped them."

"Now should we start or will your canary distrait you from your trompowsky opening?" Her father chuckled, warm creeping into his voice, almost like foreign agent.

The Heir to the Demon paused. This affair would distract him more than her. She have not released the traitor from the league and caused over 500 deaths because of it. "Rumors take days, not hours to spread." She answered, sitting down.

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After a two hour long stalemate and twice her father's hand stopping itself from rising before making a premature move, Nyssa shut the study door with a muted squeak. Sara was due to arrive from a trip to Nanda Parbat proper in half-a-hour. Before she leave, she kept grumbling about a delay and needing to something up in a hushed mutter. Mid-way through she broke the distracted rant, she recognized someone was entering the room. Her mother had celebrated Christmas but that custom ended when her mother... died. Sara returned the gift giving rituals. A simple but crucial event.

What could she being hiding with December 25th fours days away. Teases about her lover's lack of awareness and planning waited ready to leap off her tongue as Sara practically leapt like a startled cat, turning to face Nyssa with her hand buried in the satchel resting by her feet. "Hello, Miss comics-book-stash." Her lover warned as pulled her hand out of the cloth bag she rose, smiling.

Dammit. The Heir to the Demon felt her amused smile vanish as quickly as it came. She could not more glad she closed the door now. Further yet, that well time crack cost her the opening to inquire. "Five does not make me a fanatic of the medium." She recovered. "Good literature is good literature."

"Right." Her lover replied, her smirk only growing. "I'll see you in a few hours." She placed a kiss on Nyssa's cheek before heading to the door. "Also, I will cook next chance I get if you look in the chest after I return... Nes." She shut the door behind her.

The amused smile spread across her once again. Despite the fact that Sara's variation of the Lance cooking gene being superior to her sister's, she decide not to test the threat. Beside, some surprises were enjoyable… from her trusted few.

Now as she shut their bedroom door, the delight in the pervious scene faded from her mind. Sara never relished in the hunt or kill but a slight curving of her lips betrayed the glee dancing in her eyes when she was informed of the traitor's fallaciously believed fate.

A sigh escaped as she marched out to her movie archive, combined with Sara's dvd collection. Where was _Plan 9 from Outer Space_? If she had to endure the wait, having the worst movie ever produced as company would lighten her thoughts. Her fingers filed pass countless "remastered" and bicolored masterpieces, stopping only three DVDs from Sara's poly-colored section. A squeak broke her thought. "You're early." She glanced back to the archive, "Not looking. How was the hunt?"

"Snowy." Ta-er Al-Safher replied, her cheeks still rose tinted from the cutting winds. Frozen specks melting in her hair. "What do you want to watch?" She asked, shutting closet door with a muted thud.

"Plan 9." Nyssa replied, liberating the historical awful film from the threat of Sara's movies.

Her lover narrowed her eyes for a moment. "I'll get some popcorn." she replied, suspicion drifting into her voice.

"If you want." The Heir to Demon responded. Odds are the popcorn would become stale after... this unfortunate dispatch.

"Popcorn is compulsory for Plan 9. Normally... " Sara sigh, allowing moment's silent to dominate the room as walking over to her and kneeling by her. "Nyssa... what is it?"

The senior assassin take a breath. "Get the popcorn first. Then, I'll tell you." Even a few more minutes to dull the edges of the upcoming news appeased her nerves. Two days would not be enough to chip away at the sharpen blade for her taste. Her eyes focused on the DVD.

"Alright." That knowing, humoring tone hanging in her response. Ta-er Al-safher stood up. Only when the Starling City's native closed the door did Nyssa permit her unreadable expression to reflect the debate raging in her mind, Merlyn should have never been allowed to join the League or at least be released from his oath.

The setting menu dominated the screen by the time butter bathed popcorn's aroma perfumed the air. Sara, ever the American. Still, the artery clogging treat had grown on her. "Here is my end, your turn." She placed the popcorn on the comforter of the bed and sat on the bed. Nyssa torn herself from colorblind menu and joined Sara on the bed.

The Heir to the Demon gathered her breath for the short statement. It was best she learned it from her, she repeated to herself. "There is reason to believe... the traitor survived, Habibati." Anxiety overpowered her restraint, leaking in her voice like a venom. "The source is reliable so Father has already deployed Ala Qamar."

Sara's hand freeze mid scoop. "I see." Shock fractured her voice. "Who is the source?" She rested her head against the pillow and laid on her side.

"Moria Queen." Nyssa stated, laying down beside her. Sara nodded in acknowledgement of the fact but could not shape words as she closed her eyes. "I know." She allowed enough time to process the news. "Remember. For now, this is just between us." She rested her forehead on her lover's forehead.

A "No one will challenge him." broke the sickly still air.

"It is his nature." Nyssa stated, wrapping a comforting arm about her waist pulling her closer. "I don't understand it either."

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Sara's shock faded after a few days and thankfully no rumors spread. That last minute christmas rush turned out to be a custom engraved Kris. Sara must have see her gazing at them in Indonesia. Abd Afzal's engraving, without a doubt. Only he could create such precise, interlocking forms and his months long deployment to Austria explained her distracted nature. A few months passed, Losar's All Arts Games or "League Olympics", Sara's somewhat accurate term, proved undampen by the knowledge of the traitor's still beating heart. Apparently, "intriguing" leads confirmed he survived. Nyssa didn't ask for more details. Her father was handling the matter. She need distance from the Hunt. She laughed to herself. She figured out her blind spot early and knew to be aware of it. Sara, for her part, didn't expressed desire to be kept updated on it either, "Just tell me what you know for sure and when he is dead" what all she stated.

Only a request to not be assigned to missions in Starling City proved out of character. The Heir to the Demon considered it just after returning from Boston but a day to week long cold war broke out if she used her influence without Sara's knowledge and consent. It was not worth the silence if she had not asked for it. Besides with the Arrow, less missions had been ordered for that area. Even so league members working in the city were instructed to avoid being seen by him, particularity in their league uniform.

Her mind tailed back to another current of thought as she nocked another arrow. Maybe it was the situation with her sister, who was possibly developing a drug habit. Lazily, she glanced at six color band target, then released the string. An arrow stuck ten centimeters for the crimson center. She smiled. Only three more. Sara's crestfallen face supported the theory when she informed her lover of the concerning development.

Either way, a series of upcoming Chinese triad assignments occupied Sara's mind. These mission took a month to plan but only a few days to complete. Each afternoon, the bed become a city of blue prints, event schedules, or planned ship logs with her I-pod resting and a notebook center of mess. It would deconstruct about nine, only to reappear one the following afternoon. God, it probability was like that now. She added three more corner to the diamond. How many arrows could she fit in?

After four shots, she declared no arrow could fit in the colored gap without possibly injuring one of it comrades. She pulled out the eight arrows, and promptly wounded center compact crimson and amber rings with 19 clustered arrows. Inhaling she pulled back the draw string, set her eyes on the target. Tenderly, she released the arrow and watched it thrust itself into the cluster punctured matted leather. A perfect round as usual, though she could have been a little more precise with her 12th shot.

"Good afternoon, Father." She looked up, sharpening her glaze as a squeaking echoed through the training room.

"Excellent round." Ra's stated. Nyssa looked at him. She was expected to be that accurate. The round was not "excellent", for her. He wanted to talking about something. He would not have awarded that unnecessary praise otherwise. "Merlyn is in Starling City. You will be heading the final leg of the Hunt. I don't care if he goes back dead or alive. I just want a body." He harden his tone on the last bit but not to extent with his subordinates. "Also, Ta-er Al-Safher will be joining you. My orders."

His heir paused. "Of course but why?" She could not fight the decision, not with _that _tone. The tone was normal for common league members but not for her.

"Closure is needed. There is no better way than dealing with the matter directly." The Demon stated. "The plane leaves in five hours for Starling City." He stepped outside of the training room. "We will celebrate when you return." Warm reentered his voice. The corner of his lifted up for a moment. Pride surfaced in the sea of words. He paused before leaving. "They know it was me, and not you." The door shut.

Nyssa marched over the porcupine of target and pulled out the arrows. She would be more than happier to return the traitor but Sara should not be involved. She was not like him; she didn't get pleasure dealing with problems "directionally". Besides, she had too many connections, aside from Merlyn, particularly with the likelihood of Oliver Queen being the Arrow, as he was called now. Sara was a faithful league member and the Arrow was not the league's enemy; the worst criticism her father deal was his "soften". However, the future would be not certain if he interrupted in league matters.


	6. Settling

"_One more time, Ah ah ah ah aaah, Ah ah ah ah, One more time, Ah ah ah ah aaah, Ah ah ah ah..._" echoed in Sara's ears as the assassin entered the conscious world. That was "Daft Punk" covered by Penatrix; she last remembered Pink's "Bad Influence" before the darkness took her. So she slept for two hours.

The Heir to the Demon had lectured her on the dangers of sleeping on flights. Still, she would not able to remind Sara of the danger tonight. Rattling shook her bones and the whole plane joined in the dance. If this was a boat that would be snakes scaling up her back, however with planes, she trusted the pilot.

Nyssa's "resting" body struggled against the restraints of the seat belt. Even now she probably would enter combat off an unusual single sound. "A half hour more." The pilot stated.

These four words double the word total for the five hours long trip. How could she so tire this early at night? Her stomach twisted. Right, she was returning to her first home, housing a new whole set of problems but the hunt would be brief and focused. Hopefully. A beep announced itself from Nyssa's pocket. The Heir to the Demon's eyes flickered open; she sighed as she rolled her neck. Sara smiled and chuckled under her breath. Even someone as reticent as she could not conceal the discomfort of a stiff neck… around her at least.

The developing smile grew minuscule blossoms of anxiousness, only distinguishable to masters… like her girlfriend. Still, Nyssa did not loosen up her shoulder as much as usual... she didn't look certain as well. Why? Both of them could not be more overjoyed to finish the traitor. No. That could not be it. Wait a minute... of course. "Sleep well?" Sara trimmed a few blossoms, but not enough based on her girlfriend's concerned expression. She squeezed her lover's hand and nodded to the unspoken question.

Nyssa nodded and squeezed back. "I'll drive." Sara added. "I slept more."

"I will be able to. No need to do that." The Heir to the Demon stated.

They learned to keep their silent dialogue pointed. However, this required a verbal agreement. Her girlfriend could be a bull on several issues – like this.

The blonde looked at Nyssa and switched to Russian. "Three to five."

Silent dominated the plane, unbroken by emerging protest. Shock danced in Sara's eyes. She won that easily?

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From Charlies De Gaullie Airport, Sara fly into Starling International Airport. Once freed from customs, she literally dropped off her bag at the dock base before heading to Open View Park. Prolonged league missions seldom allowed for five star hotels, hell even a three star hotel, but this port warehouse provided the basics and lack of witnesses. Her mind flashed to the damp, polluted air of the Shanghai docks.

Sara returned her thoughts back to the mission. The sooner Merlyn died, the sooner she could return home. As the youngest assassin of the team, she had been volunteered to meet an informant and she would celebrate any chance settle in outside of the veteran's eyes. Haytam was one of five doctors the al Ghuls called upon for personal ailments. Ala Qalam, a league legend, had been named one of the most accomplished and masterful tracers in the centuries of the league history at age 30. Al Owal earned a reputation as a noted combatant, saving several missions from complete failure. Bandur, an unparalleled computer expert, had recently recalled to a part time commitment to this mission. Nyssa's role proved self-explanatory and frankly relieved anyone else assigned to lead this of the pressure. Ra's would understand another outcome but Merlyn's body, breathing or not in Nanda Parbat, from her. Maybe disappointed but not with a good reason for Merlyn's escape. All of this eminence felt her feeling like… just Nyssa's girlfriend brought along purely on that alone, not her own merit. Her mind wondered.

Nyssa's silent fluming and rapid, pointed movements spoke every word she was composing in her head when she marched in the bedroom. "Hey." Sara had looked up. Nyssa didn't respond. "You're early." She had to be pissed off at something... only a conflict with her father could frustrate her like that.

A sharpened "in a moment" answered.

"You have a minute." Sara replied. Emotion comparably had flooded her girlfriend's usually regulated voice. Besides, Nyssa easily spent hours further perfecting her preferred weapon or any weapon… that or reading ancient epics that took centuries to be put to papyrus, then lamb skin. At least, she had stopped sounding like Professor Madora.

"My _father _has ordered us to join Ala Qalam." Her girlfriend replied, two minutes after the deadlines for statements.

The younger assassin swallowed. "How many hours?"

"Six." Sara started to clean up the bed.

Sara's mind returned to the situation. She scanned the crowds as she walked on the beaten sideway. Haytam's words of "you'll blend better" made her feel less like a third wheel. He had a point. Security forces and civilian didn't perceived females as much of a threat as a male. Being white, blue eyed, and blonde only helped her case. It proved unfortunate entertainment when in customs, she walked pass lines of "others" pulled aside after she finished assassinating a major politician or businessman in that city.

Before leaving the docks, she changed into her survived-two-months-in-Ghana sneakers and sun bleached jeans but her shirt and leather jacket appeared appropriate for the area. So far, she had two second glances and these were from guys. The assassin dug for the 200 dollars weighting down her pocket. She needed to meet "Sin" at 5:00 pm in Open View Park.

Cliffs of off-white chucks decorated the sidewalk like the countless river valleys Sara had flown over as she walked to the park. She checked her watch. 4:50 pm. More rock salt crushed under her feet. Two minutes more of walking. Checking the area would take another five minutes. 4:58. A more thorough search would not hurt. Add two minutes. Her eyes scanned the lower middle class neighbor bordering the Glades. Architectural details and terms she learned from half-absorbing Nyssa's remarks on landmarks filled her head. Any thought to replace her reflections on being dragged to her first home.

A month after the Quake, all the displaced living in the park were "resettled" by FERA. The photos mirrored the Lucky Beggar's Corners where she lived... during her time in Shangai... only better. She purged these developing thoughts. After many steps, the assassin surveyed and checked the area. All thoughts of these details vanished as the mission took over. Black pixie cut, leather coat, Adias backpack. An eight minute patrol declared the location secure.

A pixie cut young woman in a leather jacket dashed toward the central bench; her feet marching at such a rate her feet could have slipped. Two more steps proved her right. Sara contained a laugh. The girl matched the description. Now why did she look familiar? The pilot.. her father's photo. Her promise. She figured out as she offered her hand. Yeah. The smiling Cindy matched the young woman lying on her back, muttering under her breath, only not smiling.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

Sara pulled her up. "Are you sure? I could heard the impact from over there." The assassin stated. "You may have hit your head." Concern leaked in her emotional controlled tone.

"Thanks for your concern but I hold my own." Sin countered pointedly, pulling back her hand.

"I can tell. Dana." Sara kept her hand extended. The informant froze. "Dana" contained a laugh at the thought of what had to be racing through her mind. Dana happen to be the suppose name of league member she would be meeting. She had possibly insulted a league member. The assassin flashed a muted smile. "Would you like to sit down?"

"Yeah. Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought." The young woman tried to recover.

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Sara left the park a few hundred dollars lighter and a pen drive heavier. Most of the time the league didn't use "middle man" however league members needed to their limited energy efficiently so there was a need for carriers and informants. Nyssa's plane was due to land in the hour. She contained an amused smile. Even veterans who previously worked with the Heir to the Demon appeared busier than long term mission's work load called for, before settling into the usual waiting, sparring, games, and reading. In that Serbian week long affair, Sara completed two dry, agonizing long novels. She knew Haytam wouldn't. Al-Owal, on the other hand, could prove entertaining. He had not worked with Nyssa before… and he was notorious for his claims. Most were supported thought.

A new tide of white stones washed over a round of black stones as Haytam gathered the stones in a wooden bowl. Another single placement of a black regained ground. "Ala Qalam isn't back yet?" The younger assassin asked as she dropped the pen drive on the table.

"No. Knowing him, he'll be back at one." Haytam stated, his eyes tracing the color blind board before placing a stone on the board.

Al Owal laughed under his breath. Ta-er Al-Safher inquired. "When did he leave?" She heard claims of 40 hour long marathons… long even by league status. Maybe for the legend.

"Six this morning." The sword man chuckled. He dropped several stones in the sea of night ad bleach colored stones after placing a single stone down. "Do you wish to spar, Ta-er Al-safher?" Based on firmness of the statement, it was a borderline command.

Sara checked her watch. An hour. She would need to keep a sweatshirt nearby to cover developing bruises. She nodded. He smirked. Concealing the lurking hints of fear in her eyes, she headed into the cot filled room to change into sweat pants. At that game was going, she only had minutes.

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A night chill cooled the moist air but she didn't brother to free her hair from the tail shaped prison at any point in the training combat. Sweat dripped down her forehead. Each breath came in mild pants. He appeared more fatigued however pure skill and training made out the difference. Paring an incoming stab to her abdomen, she ducked and pulled the armed limb pass her. The attempted knee to his ribs failed to connect. Before she could move to counter or attack, she laid on her back and blade hovering above her chest. This pattern continued for the next forty-five minutes. These limited but successful strikes encouraged her to keep trying. Only the scent of fried rice stopped the spar.

Waiting for him to leave and then fully relaxing, Ta-er Al-safher checked a yellow patch among the sea of red, heated skin. She throw on her sweat shirt. She had fought with a simple wrist facture and two bruised ribs yet the Heir to the Demon still noticed bruises with hawk eyes. Sara laughed to herself. Familiar chatter developed as mostly true tales of scars and past missions flowed in the connecting room. Her body bore the marks from her own combat ad training. Unless an intricate and hazardous mission was pulled off with ease only seen in movies, she thought, it didn't deserve to be retell. Battles and missions were a feature of league life. Tales rarely proved intriguing when 90 out of 100 words were true.

A dull, echoing stroll of plastic wheels filled the port structure. After taking a needed slip of water to rain in her desert of a throat, she decided another prolonged shower was needed. She guessed that almost an hour of ending up with a sword inches from an key artery could do that.

"Starling City Airport actually has somewhat decent guards." Nyssa remarked from the other room. So maybe twenty seconds depending on the number of unfortunate guards.

Sara stepped into the central living chamber. That passport hold up for two years. A record. "So Miss Raatko will not be returning to Nanda Parbat." She joked after gathering her breath.

Nyssa's face twisted to combat her smile. "I fear so." A mild laugh escaped but no smile. Close thought. Her eyes didn't stray from the paper in her hand. "How long will this take?" The Heir to the Demon harden her tone as she studied Al-Owal.

"Two to three hours."

"Good. Haytam and Ta-er Al-sahfer, I need you to visit the owner of the Embasy Hotel. Remind him the league's power and his associate." Nyssa commanded. Sara nodded. Embasy Hotel, a possible base for Merlyn's operation. "Leave at midnight. Return when it is complete." She looked at the medic.

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Sara counted the hours as she raised her bo-staff to strike an invisible opponent, then turned in an incoming strike. Before she continued the kata with a swift and brutal elbow to the face, her neck stiffen. Nyssa. "How long have been there?" The blonde asked as she relaxed.

"Only a minute." Her girlfriend walked toward her; a laugh hanging in her voice. "You should not waste all your energy before your night begins."

Nyssa's eyes wondered the darkening patch on her arm. Ta-er Al-sahfer shot her a cautionary look. "I was cooling down, then was going to close my eyes for a few hours." She separated her staff into their baton form. She could not return to the rehearsed fight now.

The Heir to the Demon nodded. "I take it that the sprat was intense?" She inquired, a step closer. Twenty feet remained between them.

"Fifteen to two deaths." Sara stated.

A corner of Nyssa's mouth lifted up. The two locked eyes. Uncertain crept into the Heir's eyes but the humor remained. 17 feet. "That is all?"

"Yes." The junior assassin answered both questions and stepped closer.

More humor danced in her girlfriend's eyes. "Well, I'm pleased you killed him twice." She paused. "Are you settled in yet? I know you didn't wish to join this mission." 14 feet.

"As must as I can." The junior assassin closed the 14 feet gap before speaking.

Nyssa twisted her expression but nodded. "Good. The traitor will be found soon."

Sara nodded. "I don't doubt that. Let's just focus on the mission."

"When have I not focused on a mission of this nature?" The Heir to the Demon chuckled flashing that eliciting of a smile. The junior assassin raised her eyebrow. "…with a team of more than one under my command."

"Under your command?" Sara intrigued. The master of choosing words had misspoken.

Nyssa laughed her under her breath. Soft, barely audible but there. Al Owal and Haytam must have left. "Only in the field, Habibati." She added. The anxious surfaced in her eyes. "If we run into your father or the Arrow, be ready to act accordingly."

Sara swallowed. "I know, and I will." At least it cannot be tied to her. Part of the league's code protected cops from becoming fatal causalities in hits and missions as they were civilians simply protecting a client or working.

Still, knocking out her father would prove interesting.


	7. Hospitality

Sara's lungs burned; the invisible accompanying dagger stabbed her side with each breath. Despite her overheated body, she shivered. Sharply spinning of her left leg, the good one, in an alley, she collapsed. Her stomach growled in its now routine twisting torment as burning in her lungs coupled with the electricity shooting up her left leg. The saddest part of the sudden police crackdown at Lucky Beggar's Corner was that she had not taken one bit of the Jiaozis she stole. Sara shut her eyes as the need to catch her breath dominated her fatigued body. The stabbing sensation faded to the background only to be replaced by her legs' protests over their recent activity. What would she give to stop out that constant implanted blade and shocks.

A male voice yelled "I think we lost them, Officer Huang!"

"Keep looking." A new male voice replied, far more aggressively. A chill rushed up her spine. Her shaking from fear joined the shivers plaguing her body.

Sara's heart raced. Did she have the strength to stand up right now? She forced her eyes open. No. Not quick enough to actually escape if they found her. Hell. Could she even run again? The stabbing sensation in her ribs tore deeper. She bit down on her lip to contain the cough threatening to reveal her location. These steps faded. The Starling City native inhaled deeply, ignoring the pain, then fought to force down the same cough. There had to be more coming. Twenty cops and only two made it this far. Right? Still, she needed for her lungs to stop burning.

How long she waited she could not said but the steps faded from her thoughts and the forest fire stopped raging her lungs. Eventuality she felt safe enough to pull herself up. Her eyes scanned her right side for a handle, a crate, any object really. The drifter braced herself when her right side was empty. Grasping the rusted handle to her left, she pulled herself, shifting all her weight from her hot leg to its unwounded counterpart. You have to do this. One more step is not going to kill you if two exploding ships hadn't. You'll hate it but you have to do it. Gingerly, she lowered her heel to the pavement. A mild electric shock flew up to her kneecap. She loosed her choking grasp on the deep crimson metal dumpster. The cough climbed up her throat. She stumbled back and she suffocated the dumpster handle as a chorus of coughs flew from her mouth. The stabbing and electricity struck simultaneously. Couldn't death take her now? She mentally pleaded as she untwisted her face.

Okay. Restart. Step one. Sara lifted up left foot. A jog of lightning leapt up her left leg as she lowered it a few feet in front of her. She leaned her hand against the cool stone wall before lifting her right leg and bracing. A current of electricity jetted up her calf to thigh. Now another.

With each step, the cycle continued. Eventuality, the drifter managed to march to another nearby alley before fatigue demanded she sit. God. Maybe she wanted death more than life. It mean freedom from this routine stabbing, hunger, and nightmares. She knew she should not wish for death but… was this suffering worth a few more weeks of life?

Another riff of coughs broke the still, coal-polluted air. The humming and beeping of cars echoed in the background, blocking out the riff. Her face twisted to a wince as that blade twisted with the sharpen breath. A group rushed past in the connecting alley. Instinctively, she lowered herself down out of view. There was nothing for her to be seen, particularity by "Defenders of Law".

Sara closed her eyes to sleep. She used too much energy today. Voices broke the developing darkness. "Have you seen a group run ahead?" Male. Dense Shanghai accent.

"No." Female. Unyielding and smooth. Fluent and mastered but not native to the city, at least.

A muted darkness reigned. Fear entered the male's voice. "Thank you for your time."

Silence replaced the voices. Sara's eye slipped further down. Great. Now, entering the land of explodes, Avo's experiments, and Shado's collapsed, limp body.

"Come out. More will be coming." It was the female voice. Softer but equally tenacious.

The Starling City native drifted further into sleep, unmoving. Perfect. More cops. No one would brother her. Dreaming didn't appeal to her either however fighting her body proved futile.

"I would strongly suggest you leave." The stranger reminded her, seemingly moving closer.

"Thank you for your concern." Sara replied, sarcastically as she forced her eyes open. Would not she just go away? No words or footsteps in the air. She forced down a cough scaling up her dry, sand paper throat. Her hood started to fall back. Blinding sunlight invaded her eyes. Frozen in fear, she lifted up her eyes; still she didn't look at the woman. Her stomach growled, twisting agonizingly more in a knot. Another annoying cough plunged down.

"Sssh." Two hands retreated from her peripheral vision. "I will not hurt you." Tenderness snuck into the neutral tone. That damn cough ascended her throat again. Parts of her trusted the tone but experience hardened her. The trusting Sara on the Gambit and island died.

Her eyes migrated upward. Only black hair flowing from under a bleached gray hood onto a matching jacket could be seen. The woman pulled down the hood. Without the shadows concealing them, dirt colored eyes and elegant features appeared creating a flat, unreadable expression.

The pre-island Sara would have been envious however now the neutral mask worried her and the beauty of the woman faded from her thoughts. She was dressed like a migrant worker with faded, worn clothing but… her accent... it was not from any region she heard before and it didn't sit right. It was better not to ask.

The unreadable mask softened, revealing suggestions of tenderness. Suddenly their eyes locked. From her last look in a mirror she knew her eyes had started digging trenches around themselves and her cheek bones stood out from her other feature. That had been enough for her to look away. God, that had been two weeks ago. Now in a way she was grateful for the dirt concealing further developments.

The drifter dropped her eyes, studying the details of the dirt filled moats in the cement. "How long have you been sick?" The stranger intrigued, burrowing through her pockets.

No response followed. To be honest, she didn't even know.

"Here." She continued, revealing a granola bar and half-drunk bottle of water. More tenderness presented itself subsequently "I'm Nyssa".

"Sara." The drifter took the handouts with as much as dignity as she could. Promptly, the water smoothed her sand paper throat. She drained more into the desert of her belly.

Eating slowly enough to conceal the true extent of her hungry would prove challenging but it could be done. "Alright, Sara. How are your ribs?" Nyssa asked gentility, almost like her mom used to, placed the back of her hand on her forehead as she spoke.

How did she know? "Been better." Sara convinced.

"Your leg?"

The Starling City native stiffened. She definitely was not a migrant worker. "Discomforting."

The woman nodded. "I can get you to a doctor." She stated. The Starling City native frozen. She didn't have any money and refused to pay with-

Nyssa continued. "It will cost you nothing. Nothing."

The drifter could not meet her gaze. These words sounded genuine but Avo sounded somewhat genuine at first. It would have been easier to just let death claim her or make a test subject. She felt the cough clawing up her throat. "Why did you care?" At least the water smoothed the sand paper. Besides, she didn't have the strength to fight if she had to.

Nyssa paused, hints of confusion poking out from under the mask. "I had no other motives than to aid you." She finally answered.

Sara swallowed down the water in brief gulps. For some reason unknown to her, she trusted her authenticity. She nodded in agreement as the cough escaped. The drifter attempted to limit the twisting of her face, not that it would mask any bit of the pain to the unreadable expression.

"Would you like me to help you up, Sara?" The woman asked.

"Yes." The Lance convinced. It would just be easier.

Nyssa nodded, stood up, and moved to her right side. Timidly contaminating the crisp but worn gray jacket as Sara rested her elbow behind the woman's neck. In turn, she locked her right arm around the drifter's waist. "3. 2. 1." She lifted up. The drifter felt the outline of a dagger against her leg. Nyssa sounded genuine. Besides, it was too late now.

The scene faded as Sara's eyes open. She lifted her head up from Nyssa's shoulder. Pulling her body up, she felt her lover loosen her embrace. So she was not asleep. The blanket hung off her frame as she checked the digital numbers on the burner phone. 11:00. She laid down again.

A hour and a half only. Her stomach remained tighten as if from hunger. Dammit. She was not that broken girl. She had proved herself. Hell, she even regularly landed strikes on the Heir to the Demon in sparing. She blamed the damp air and… possibly returning to her first home? Not the second reason. Time to return to work.

Sara titled her head down, closing her eyes once again. "It's 11. I will need to get up."

"Eventually." Her lover purred.

The Starling City native chuckled. Her body melting onto the cot with each passing minute. How they both of them managed to fit she didn't know, especially considering Nyssa could take up a bed by herself if given the chance and desire? Even with this cramped cot and location, she take this over the Saudi Arabia vacation of sorts with its pen house. She didn't know if recovering from being shot could count as a vacation. However, they made the best of the break. Still when the zeros became a 15, she dragged her from under the blanket and stood up.

The assassin felt her girlfriend's eyes settle on her back as she pull up her shirt. "Would you like me to turn around?" She teased.

"If it is pleasing to you," Nyssa flirted. "I would not complain."

Of course. There again, Sara didn't complain when she did so either. "…and you call me Dalal."

"You are no better than me." The Heir to the Demon chuckled. Her beloved could practicality hear the smile.

After pulling on her league uniform, Sara grabbed her Bo staff. Nyssa stand up, her hood in hand. "Be smart and return."

never say good bye before leaving for a mission. The cemetery is Nanda Parbat earned the title "Resting Place of Complacent, Age and Misfortunate". Nyssa's mom herself passed away due to misfortunate, apparently a job gone wrong. She didn't reveal more about that chapter.

"I will."

Her girlfriend nodded and pulled the hood down.

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Haytam limped behind Sara as she leapt to the neighboring roof top, gravel soundlessly passing under her feet. Youth (and uninjured knees) out weighted experience here. Five more minutes and surveillance would take over. A glint of green caught the corner of her eyes. Ollie? "Sir?" Ta-er Al-safher asked in arabic.

"I saw it. We need to lose him." The medic confirmed.

The subordinate nodded. "Do you see that building?" Her eyes settled on the brick roof access shed resting among the gravel and cigarette buds littering the roof. Her superior nodded. Perfect. Now Oliver would connect the mysterious rescuer and the league, likely to the Traitor as well. This was going to be fun.

"We cannot risk a conflict with him directly." Haytam retreated by the shed, joining Sara. The sound of gavel shifting under someone's feet. "Use your sonar thingy." He commanded in a whisper.

The junior assassin contained a laugh. The man had used robots for surgery but called a simple sonar device a "thingy". Still, she nodded and check the Arrow's movements. Ten feet and closing. Ollie, forgive me. She covered her ear. Haytam copied. A high pitch screech shattered the air. The assassins' feet carried them down the fire escape and toward the shadows of the alley.

The green cloaked archer surveyed the alleyscape below, the bow armed with an arrow. Sara could not spare a backward glance. She need to work. The Arrow didn't follow.

Eventually, lights reading "Embassy Hotel" illumining the incoming skyline. Her mind returned to the time zone and blueprints. Central office at 1:00 am. Her eyes scanned field of dark cement.

Great. How much would Oliver be able to connect? What would he think of her? Sara, think of the traitor. The lesser he pays, the sooner she returns home. She repeated to herself. Her eyes settled on the back entrance after check her watch. Forty five minutes before the fool learned the serious of his mis-alliance.


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